…Among a Summer shadow

I wake up and take each limb away from a limbo dance
I do my strange ritual, seulement la chimère, push-ups, gravity my charge
just scratching a shadow from the sky
then your arse, then my claws, then 5am moving poems

I have to drink some cool water just to remember
each of my pores are you, each sweat gland bends to our song
besuchen thy orchestrate organs of cool August

And if I am gone, I am with you, where I see you, I glance at you still sleeping
you awaken day, all ice
all day
all peace

If there are more comets below thy sea’s space
let us toast violently or not at all!

Where we swim orchid and devour all that that would stand before us in this world of many

I jog my head and remember that I’m insane.
since in my world we’re always dancing, there’s a joker with legs
crooked enough to open his lips! Bouncing a lexical sun!
along the chimes of a river, your odour is mine, we’ve created
an elixir that displeases ghosts
the shadows are percival to our lungs
your hair screams of London in black fires
my skin is towed away into grip, where Daedalus
and fortunes must strike away our heart, so
each architect is a day of furious calm striking
all of your body alight and heavy, soaking the wind
where raptures return devouring madness
palettes of awesome flesh in the forest, where
no longer am I sad that we are human
as each gust in the thickets lifting from their roots
sways its naked legs in the air, purring, embalming
my eyes of furious green that are more ready for dance
than the leximin turbines ripe, turning widows in the chaos dusk
such as my fur, such as my skin, such as my bones
in dream and day I do not dance, vos lumières sont mes lumières
your lights are my lights departing this awful grey
we turn into each other’s star, that has no rancour
you choose my face of defiant efflorencse half
a shadow in your gestault scream where I grow
since I am your wolf without nameless menegerie

Then the pay checks come though, and I ask
for nothing more, than your silent musk to be beside me
i scream for several lives in a shaililka wound of fire
your hands rub cream into the spectres of our bones
among the twisted beer cans that i clear away lucidly
my teeth grow wilder in time instead of quietening
such obsequious drones mate and mate
such human care made from the steel of understanding
when we are together we are birds and leopard
when we are apart we are our families disgust
our religion is named you & I, since without my disgusting grace
your fiction has no beat, and I feel the same in reverse
the sea’s current among the castles, are only our bodies, to us
we’ll be alright, in the long run, our DNA having exchanged
although where we meet new lovers below our rage
our synchronicity exchanged inside the sun
only the moons can growl into smiling flesh
only the street is branded obscene where we dance
my last thoughts being, unmade, that we are poems
today is made from our language, tomorrow is made from our scent
I have no other, our summer
is as simple, as winter.

And as we fly, we see only life
as scarce as that may be
mon ours
mon éternité.